Mat, Let, and Win are the names by which three little sisters of my acquaintance are usually called. These are nicknames, of course. Can you guess what their real names are?

Lest you should be too long about it, I will tell you: they are Matilda, Letitia, and Winifred. Mat is the one standing on the chair in the picture; Let is the one sitting on the bed, with her left foot hanging down; and Win, the youngest, is the one sitting up in bed.

What is the cause of all this commotion? It is only four o'clock in the morning; but Mat and Let have rushed into Win's room to get a good view, out of her window, of the men firing guns out on the green. It is the Fourth of July.

"Why do they wake us up so early with their bell-ringing, their crackers, and guns?" said Let. "I hate the Fourth of July!"

"She talks like a rebel," said Win. "She must be put in prison."

"That is not a bad idea, Win," said Mat. "She hates the Fourth of July, does she?—the birthday of the great republic! She hates it!—the day that made us a nation."

"Yes; and I hate the stars and stripes, and all this fuss and noise, this smell of smoke, and firing of crackers," said Let, showing a fist.

"Jump up, Win, and help me arrest this rebel," said Mat. "The country is lost if we allow such talk."

The next minute, the three sisters were running about the room,—Mat and Win trying to catch poor Let, and thrust her into the closet, which was to be her prison. Such a stamping, such an outcry, as there was!

"What's all that racket there?" cried papa, at last, from the foot of the stairs that led into his room underneath. "Isn't there noise enough out of doors, without your shaking the house over our heads?"

"Let says she hates the Fourth of July, and the old flag," cried Mat; "and we think she ought to be put in prison as a rebel. We are trying to arrest her."

"Go to bed, every one of you, you rogues!" said papa, "or I will put you all in prison for breaking the peace,—Where's my big whip, mother?"

"I'll tell you where it is, papa," cried little Win.

"Where, then, is it, you little darl—I mean you little rogue?" said papa.

"It is where Cinderella's glass slippers are," screamed Win. "Ask the fairies where that is."

What a scampering and laughing there was then!

Papa made a pounding with his feet on the stairs, as if he were coming up in a great rage; but he and mamma were laughing all the time, and so were Mat and Let,—all but Win, and she kept a grave face.

It was now almost five o'clock, and the three sisters made up their minds that they would dress themselves, and go out on the green to see the fun.